CHAPTER VI.

FRANK’S POPULARITY.

The audience shouted its astonishment.

“Off!” snarled the actor, trying to break from Frank.

“Steady!” commanded Merry. “You have gone over the limit. What are you trying to do?”

“I said I’d fix him!”

“He’s in luck if you haven’t done it already.”

“Let go!”

“Never!”

Then the fellow tried to strike Frank, but Merry warded off the blow. In another moment a fierce struggle was taking place between them in full view of the audience.

Up to this time the actors behind the scenes had seemed asleep or paralyzed with surprise. Now they came rushing onto the stage and surrounded the combatants.

Barnaby Haley himself came on. He was greatly excited.

“Seize that fellow!” he ordered, pointing at Frank. “Where are the police? I’ll have him arrested for interfering with the show!”

Down the aisle rushed two policemen, clambering over the footlights and onto the stage.

The actors, directed by the manager, had torn Frank and “Legree” apart. Merriwell flung off those who attempted to hold him, and stood there in their midst.

“Arrest him!” commanded Haley.

A long, lank, awkward youth came scaling over the footlights from the midst of the band. With two long strides he reached Merriwell and planted himself by Frank’s side.

“Hold on, b’gosh!” he cried, flourishing the brass horn he carried. “You don’t arrest him in a hurry!”

Out from the wings rushed a fat lad, with a blackened face. He took a position on the other side of Frank.

“Yaw, py shimminy!” he gurgled! “he don’d arrest you a hurry in alretty.”

Frank’s friends were on hand. Ephraim and Hans were there.

Barnaby Haley gasped with surprise, and the policemen hesitated a moment.

“What’s this? what’s this?” spluttered the manager.

“Business, by gum!” declared the Vermonter.

“Yaw!” nodded Hans, “id peen pusiness.”

“This man attacked Storms.”

“Waal, I guess it was a gol darn good thing for Havener that he did. Mebbe Storms has fixed Havener anyhaow.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jest take a look at Havener an’ you’ll find aout.”

“Uncle Tom” was lying where he had fallen, and a hasty examination showed he was unconscious, while blood was flowing from a wound on his head, caused by the blow from the butt of the whip.

Haley, who had not seen the encounter between the two actors, was dazed.

“Who did it?” he asked.

“Him!”

Ephraim Gallup’s long index finger pointed straight at the one who had impersonated “Legree.”

“How?”

“With that whip.”

“But—but why should he do——”

“Ask him. He’s had a grutch ag’in Havener fer a month, an’ to-night he tried ter kill him right here on the stage afore all these people!”

“That’s right!” shouted fifty voices from the audience.

“He is the one to be arrested!” roared a man standing in the front row of the first balcony. “I know t’other feller. He’s Frank Merriwell, an’ he’s the right sort.”

Frank Merriwell! Many persons in the audience had recognized Merry when he leaped on the stage, but the mention of his name sent a surge of emotion over the entire house.

Now they knew him! The name of Frank Merriwell was familiar to everybody in that city, for the prominent part he had taken in the railroad strike had advertised him thoroughly.

And Frank’s greatest admirers were aroused. Up in the gallery a red-headed boy poised himself on the rail and shrilly yelled:

“Well, wot’s der matter wid Frank Merriwell?”

And the gallery broke into an answering roar:

“He’s—all—right!”

“Dat’s wot!” screamed the red-headed boy. “Let him erlone an’ see wot he’ll do ter ‘Simon Legree’!”

“He won’t do a thing to him!” significantly bellowed half the gallery.

“If dem cops puts a fin on him, we’ll come down an’ wipe up der the-a-tur with ’em!” threatened the red-headed champion.

“Dat’s what we will!” shouted the others.

Frank looked up, smiled and bowed. That smile was enough to set his admirers wild. They howled, roared, clapped and stamped till the gallery shook and threatened to come down.

“Great gosh!” cried Ephraim Gallup, in Merry’s ear; “I ruther think yeou’ve got a few friends in this ’air taown!”

One of the policemen was examining the wound on the head of the unconscious actor. He spoke to a companion:

“Call an ambulance,” he said. “It looks to me as if this chap’s skull may be cracked. He may never recover consciousness.”

“Is it possible?” gasped Barnaby Haley, who had heard the words. “And Storms did it? I declare!”

He turned and glared at the drunken actor.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked. “Are you mad?”

Storms did not reply, but now he began to show symptoms of fear.

“If Havener is dead, I’ll see that you hang for it!” declared the manager.

“Shall we arrest Mr. Merriwell?” asked one of the policemen, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

“No, no!” cried Haley. “My gracious, no! It seems that I was mistaken concerning his purpose. He sprang onto the stage to stop Storms—to keep him from finishing his work. Do not molest Mr. Merriwell.”

The gallery heard this, and shouted its delight. The red-headed boy stood up and screamed:

“T’ree cheers fer Frank Merriwell! Open yer t’roats ev’rybody!”

Then the entire audience, catching the spirit of the occasion, broke into a mighty cheer, bringing the hot blood to Merry’s face.

“There, b’gosh!” sighed Ephraim Gallup, with satisfaction. “Naow yeou’ve got whut ye deserve.”

“Yaw,” agreed Hans, “now you haf got vot I deserfe.”

“Merriwell! Merriwell! Speech! Speech!”

The audience was calling for a speech, but Frank simply shook his head and flatly refused to make a speech.

“Arrest ole ‘Legree’!” howled the red-headed boy.

“Yes,” said Barnaby Haley, speaking to the officers. “I want you to arrest him.”

Storms glanced quickly around, as the officer stepped toward him.

“Wait!” he exclaimed.

Like a flash he snatched out a revolver.

“As well for two as for one!” he snarled.

Up went his hand.

Click!

The hammer of the revolver fell, but there was no report.

The cartridge had failed to explode, and Frank Merriwell’s life was spared.

Uttering a howl of rage, the fellow flung the weapon at Merry, striking him fairly on the breast and staggering him.

Then, with a shout of defiance, the desperate actor made a run and a leap, sailing out over the footlights, out over the heads of the band, and alighting on his feet.

“Stop him!” Haley cried.

Up the aisle flew the fugitive. The policemen sprang after him, but no one seemed to care to get in the ruffian’s path, so he dashed through an open door and disappeared.